


A Sticky-Fingered Filcher

by takethesky87



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Spoilers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Gen, Multiple Crossovers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethesky87/pseuds/takethesky87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I believe you’re familiar with Carmen Sandiego’s work, Mr. Holmes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sticky-Fingered Filcher

**Author's Note:**

> A silly little thing I wrote for a reddit prompt, which asked for a crossover between three unrelated fandoms.
> 
> Title comes from the best [theme song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hsa2nsjmc4Y) to have ever graced television.

John blinks. “Sorry—she stole _what_?”

Natasha sends a wry glance at John before returning her eyes to the man seated across from her. The latter’s palms are pressed together beneath his chin, a smug look crawling up the corners of his mouth. “I believe you’re familiar with Carmen Sandiego’s work, Mr. Holmes,” Natasha continues, ignoring the interruption. “Your brother tells me you had a hand in that incident with the missing keys to the Tower of London a few years back.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “The handiwork of one of her asinine thugs. Went by the name of Vic the Slick, if I recall.” He bends forward, head cocked to the side. “You have every S.H.I.E.L.D. resource available to you, Ms. Romanoff. Why come to me?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed, Sherlock,” John says. “It doesn’t exist anymore.”

Sherlock grins, Cheshire-like. Natasha stills as his eyes flicker across her face. 

“So I’ve heard. Tell me, John—“ he springs to his feet, gliding past them both into the kitchen— “did you notice the bug in our copy of _The Times_ this morning?”

_Damn_ , Natasha thinks. Crossing her legs, she smoothes her features into an innocent smile and says nothing.

John twists in his chair to frown at Sherlock. “What do you mean, a bug?” He stands, too, raising his eyebrows at Natasha before descending upon the stack of newspapers splayed across the coffee table behind her. She swings an elbow over the chair back and watches, feigning amusement.

“Page seven,” Sherlock calls from the kitchen. The clink of glass against glass follows in the wake of his voice. “Some of the finest surveillance equipment I’ve seen. I wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the one I also found on this.”

He emerges from the kitchen with a beaker in hand, tapping a finger against the bottom of the glass. John drifts back to his chair, running his thumb over what Natasha knows is a thin, clear circle of plastic adhered to the edge of page seven of _The Times_.

“Jesus,” John says under his breath. He glances up as Sherlock returns to his seat. “ _This_ is a bug?”

Sherlock nods. “Cutting-edge technology, the likes of which I would only expect from S.H.I.E.L.D. May I ask, Ms. Romanoff—will we find more of these around the flat? Perhaps the next time I reorganize the bookshelves?”

She purses her lips, meeting Sherlock’s piercing look. “I’m only here to offer a job.”

“Yes, on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. We do agree on that point, don’t we? Just to be clear.” His gaze slides toward her temple. “Earpiece in your right ear. You went radio silent when you entered the flat, knowing that I would be able to tell if you were listening to someone else during our conversation.” A nod to the window. “Two black cars that have been parked down the street since an hour before you arrived. Not Mycroft’s—wrong model, wrong plates. Clearly attached to you, then, but last I checked, the Black Widow doesn’t travel with a caravan of unmarked sedans. Not when she’s working alone, anyway.” 

He settles back into the chair, arms draped over the sides. The beaker dangles from one hand. “I’ll ask again, Ms. Romanoff. Obviously S.H.I.E.L.D. is still active; you have their greatest resources at your disposal. So, why do you need me?”

Natasha closes her eyes. Sighing, she stands, reaching into her pocket. “They did tell me you were good. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

“No, you shouldn’t.”

She ignores that, tapping absently on her phone. “You may be familiar with Sandiego’s work, but you haven’t met her. She is the slipperiest criminal I have ever encountered. Dozens of crimes attributed to her name, yet those goons of hers are always the ones who take the flak. Never her.” Natasha shakes her head, smiling. “I had lunch with her once, in Hong Kong. Almost brought her in, too, before things went south.”

She hands the phone to Sherlock. John rises, circling around Sherlock’s armchair to see the screen over his shoulder. John’s eyes grow wide as he reads aloud.

“’If you ever want to see Captain America’s shield again, then send me Sherlock Holmes.’”

John looks at Natasha in disbelief.

She lowers into her chair again, leaning forward. “It doesn’t matter what resources I may have, Mr. Holmes. She wants _you_.”

John knits his brow in confusion. “I still don’t understand. I thought Captain America made his opinion pretty clear when he destroyed those helicarriers. Why would you do anything to help him?”

She chuckles, a low hum in the back of her throat. “As your friend so eloquently implied,” she says, tilting her head at Sherlock, “not everything is as it seems. And so, here I am.” She opens her palms in invitation. “The greatest criminal wants to meet the greatest detective. We want Cap’s shield back. What do you say?”

Sherlock’s eyes glitter as he lifts his head to meet Natasha’s. “Yes,” he says, grinning. “I’ll take the case.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Sticky-Fingered Filcher [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6369277) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




End file.
